


Regret/Redemption

by aeternamente



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Memory, Netherfield, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternamente/pseuds/aeternamente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forgetting nothing has its downsides sometimes. Post-98.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret/Redemption

As soon as the door closed behind them, Lizzie grabbed a hold of Darcy’s tie and pulled him down to her, throwing the arm not involved in tie-clutching over his neck. His hands found her waist and backed her up against the door. Netherfield was wholly unoccupied—there was no need to be self-conscious, to fear discovery, to repress the muffled noises emanating from their throats.

After turning off her camera and indulging in a good five-minute make-out session back at home, the two of them had come to the decision that her parents’ den was perhaps not the best place to continue such activities. He had gallantly offered to take her out for a birthday dinner, since Charlotte and her Chinese take-out were now nowhere to be found. They made it through twenty minutes of barely touching their food while exchanging sultry gazes before they gave it up as a bad job and asked for to-go boxes, which they promptly left in Darcy’s rental when they arrived at Netherfield in their haste to get inside.

Now, pressed against the door, Lizzie wrapped her other arm around Darcy’s neck and balanced as high up on tip-toe as she could manage, her whole body aching for as much contact with him as her lips and tongue and arms were currently enjoying. It occurred to her that perhaps this open, airy entrance hall with its distinct lack of furniture was also not terribly conducive to the continuation of current pursuits. She said as much to him, much less eloquently, muffled against his repeated kisses.

He reluctantly pulled away from her mouth, but continued to rest his forehead against hers. They were both breathing very heavily, their breaths mingling and rushing forward into currents between them. He swallowed, catching a breath in his throat, which came out in a gasp once allowed to escape. And finally, he pushed his hands against the door and moved away from her, and caught her hand to lead her into the house.

Lizzie’s breathing receded back to its normal depth and pace as she followed him. He led her up the stairs and through these halls that felt familiar, yet distant, like old friends… and yet, there was something unidentifiable, something unsettling…

They proceeded on into what Lizzie recognized as the guest wing, and by habit, she nearly turned to enter her old room, but found that Darcy was pulling her ahead toward what she now remembered to be his room.

But the memory of her old room tugged at her, and she in turn stopped and tugged at Darcy’s hand. He turned and gave her a questioning look.

Lizzie swallowed and tried to sort through the barrage of memories shooting through her mind—conversations, arguments, afternoons alone with her thoughts, nights out at restaurants, nights in with movie marathons. And his constant presence. The way it excited and intrigued her even then, the way that excitement scared her, the way she’d pushed back at anything resembling a favorable impression of someone she was determined to hate.

“I, um…” she started, and paused. “I need to…” She couldn’t quite articulate what it was she needed, so she dropped his hand and walked into the familiar purple room. She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge of it, exactly where she used to film. She could visualize exactly where she had the camera set up, could almost feel its steady unblinking gaze.

And she knew why she needed to be here.

Darcy was standing at the door. “So, we’re in your old room,” he commented. He still looked confused.

“Yes, I…” She cleared her throat. “Um, you know how I always say that I forget nothing?”

He gave a small smile that still didn’t quite overcome his confusion. “Yes,” he said. “Of course I do.”

“Well, it’s true. My memory is… kind of ridiculously accurate. And it’s a blessing and a curse, you know? On one hand, I’ve always been able to ace tests without really studying, but on the other hand…”

The flood memories was overpowering her—all of the angry words and misguided feelings of self-righteous indignation, all of the times she willfully ignored anything that might contradict her preconceived notions.

“On the other hand, when I’ve said and done things I regret, they never go away, and sometimes it hurts to remember…”

“Lizzie, I forgave you a long time ago. I really don’t think—”

“Please, just let me do this,” she insisted, holding up a hand to stop his protests.

She took a deep breath.

“I don’t think you’re unpleasant, disagreeable, or full of yourself. You’re not pompous, vain, or proud—or at least not proud in ways you shouldn’t be. I know now how capable you are of genuinely liking people, and that I misunderstood your intentions all of those times I thought you were mocking or judging me.”

She blinked the moisture out of her eyes.

“I don’t feel sorry for the woman who ends up stuck with you for life. In fact, if it doesn’t end up being me, I think I’ll be jealous of her.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “And I don’t hate you.” Her voice shook, and the tears began falling fast. “I could n- _never_ —hate you.”

Her voice was coming in sobs now, and she heard quick steps across the floor, felt a warm hand at her back. She looked up at his face. Her vision was blurred with tears, and he looked shadowed and ghostly in the darkness. She brought a hand up to his cheek and felt a wetness running down her thumb.

“I-I love you,” she said in a shaky whisper, and she kissed him, pouring everything she had into the movement of her lips against his. It was impossible to tell which tears belonged to whom. They fell indiscriminately and mingled together among the curves and contours of their faces, and dropped past their lips and onto their tongues, imbuing their kisses with salt and sadness.

“I love you, Lizzie Bennet,” he murmured, “I love you…  _so, so much_.”

She sighed into him and pulled him closer, and allowed herself to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [YesKnopeMaybe](http://yesknopemaybe.tumblr.com/) for the [Supercut of Darcy Insults](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HY_HmQg4uvo), which saved me a lot of time just now.


End file.
